CAMPING
While walking through campgrounds in Leadville, Colorado, Rocky Mountain National Park and Kanopolis, Kansas, I immediately felt a kinship with the people I photographed. They invited me inside their private spaces even if they were messy. They showed me their beds, the contents of their RV fridge, the cubby holes below and even secret spots holding portable toilets. They didn’t try to straighten up or make excuses.
That’s what I like about camping. It gives you permission to be the person you were meant to be. Campers don’t try to justify sleeping in an unwashed sleeping bag, not taking a shower for days or eating macaroni and cheese from a box. They can put their feet up on a crate and read People magazine all day while eating junk food, or stare at the distant mountains for hours on end. And although people might ask, “Where did you go today?” No one asks, “What did you do all day?”
That’s what I like about camping. It gives you permission to be the person you were meant to be. Campers don’t try to justify sleeping in an unwashed sleeping bag, not taking a shower for days or eating macaroni and cheese from a box. They can put their feet up on a crate and read People magazine all day while eating junk food, or stare at the distant mountains for hours on end. And although people might ask, “Where did you go today?” No one asks, “What did you do all day?”